


The Little King of White

by RinBob2410



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotions, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Pre-Hogwarts, Pre-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Sorry I'm not good at proofreading, Typos, werewolf discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinBob2410/pseuds/RinBob2410
Summary: He recognized the look of imprisonment. The gaunt face, the empty eyes, the slouch in his back, and the shyness. Of course, he knows the Lupins are trying their best with a tough situation, but that doesn't change the utter lack of self-value the poor kid has. If anything, it only exasperates the false impression that he's a monster who shouldn't interact with society.He knows this story all to well. And he vows that he will do everything he can to get Remus Lupin into Hogwarts.He owes it to the poor child, and he owes it to her.





	The Little King of White

**Author's Note:**

> 10 house points if you get the title. (Hint: It's a name dealing with the illness lycanthropy represents.)

Dumbledore apparates and arrives late in the evening on a street in a small town he knows holds no significance to him, nor the family in the household he will be visiting. Their neighbors had a healthy amount of decorations along their lawns and windowsills. The lights are bright, and families smile in the average suburban household way. Meanwhile, a house almost identical to the ones next to it stayed quiet and dark. There’s a single car, one that Dumbledore can sense had been magically altered, but otherwise the house hold no visible signs of life. The window curtains have been drawn shut to prevent onlookers from seeing inside. The style of house belongs to a family who has recently moved in, and plans to move out sometime soon.

The professor knows he has to treat the situation with tender care. The family is not intending on any visitors to come in. Especially visitors of the wizarding sort. _Especially_ visitors of an educational sort. But, the benefit of the family’s secluded nature (with their closed off picket fence and covered windows) is that it will make it easier to come into their house without their knowledge. However, considering the family’s horrible history with unexpected visitors, he decides it’s probably best to follow typical visiting manners and not cause anything _too_ detrimental. At least for now, anyways. 

He knocks on the door three times before it cracks open, only leaving a tiny sliver, not even the full length of the chain lock, in which Dumbledoore sees a man looking up at him. His hazel eyes framed with deep bags meet sparkling baby blue framed with crows feet, before the man’s eyes go wide in fear. He slams the door shut.

While Dumbledore was expecting a reaction like this, he did not expect one quite so blunt. He blinks rapidly, and hears the silent murmur of a locking spell from the other side of the door. He knocks again, but to no avail. Dumbledore is only answered with more muttered spells, and to his amusement, the sound of furniture moving and a whispered conversation. He finds it an entirely injudicious move on their end, but he supposes it makes sense. “Desperate people do foolish things,” afterall. He admires the Lupins’ attempts to protect their son, even if his attempt at protection is a bit off from what he would deem appropriate.

“Lyall Lupin,” Dumbledore announces loud enough so not only the Lupins will hear, but possibly the neighbors as well. “Will you and your wife please let me in, I am here to have a conversation about your son.”

There is a deep heavy pause, just as Dumbledore was expecting from the family. 

He moves to his next plan of action and takes out his wand, silently undoing the locking spells Lyall has placed on the door, and manages to move a chair placed underneath the doorknob. He twists it open, and invites himself in.

When he steps inside, what meets him is two terrified parents. Lyall Lupin, a bright student he taught transfiguration to, has terrified hazel eyes, premature age lines, graying hair, and a slightly thin look about him. He still has his work robes on, and must have just come home from the ministry. His robes are a bit frayed and dull in color, hanging on him as if he were a clothes rack. Dumbledore decides he is glad he waited until later in the evening to visit, as he assumed correctly that Lyall Lupin would be working late. He looked to be aging much too rapidly for how young he was, and a twang of pain hurt Dumbledore’s chest to see the familiar face looking so panicked. At the same time, clutching his arm is a beautiful woman with a similar prematurely aged look. She’s wearing a faded dress and an apron covered in stains. Her blonde hair was held loosely in a bun, green eyes wavering, almost forming tears to match the nervous tightness of her lips and grasp.

“Good evening.”

Dumbledore tries to smile as kindly as he can, hoping to help relax the parents. After all, he is giving a solution to their fears, and providing an opportunity for their son. But, it might take them a good while to believe that any visitor could bring good news. He hopes the family will calm to a right state of mind so that they can accept his offer. He shuts the door behind him with magic, and walks into the dark living room to sit on the couch. He lights the fireplace with a wave of his wand as the Lupins follow him, warmth and light now flooding the dark and dreary room. In the corner of his eye, he sees a figure crouching at the top of a stairwell. Finally, Dumbledore’s smile is able to reach his eyes.

He looks around the house, observing the character of it, and in the process tries to get a better understanding of the family. The house is mostly dark, save for the kitchen and hallway lights (plus the light now filling in the fireplace). There are no decorations on the wall, leaving it just as bare as the yard. Many boxes are stacked up in the back of the living room, never having been unpacked. However, he sees a bookshelf lined with many books of interesting varieties of conditions. What draws his attention though, is an entire section dedicated to Lyall’s old school books (looking overly used) along with what looks like some old muggle textbooks. Many of the pages have been dogeared or have bookmarks and pencils sticking out of them. Dumbledore has to admire that at least the Lupins decided they’d try to teach Remus themselves. It would be a difficult commitment for them to take on, but they would still be willing to do what they can for Remus. Many parents wouldn’t be willing to go to the lengths that the Lupins go to for their werewolf son.

He only observes the room for as long as Lyall is silent, waiting until the man finally speaks up.

“Professor Dumbledore, may I ask why it is you’ve decided to visit us so late at night?”

Sometimes conversations are a game of politeness, when both parties already knows what the other will say.

“I am here to talk about your son’s acceptance to Hogwarts.”

Hope gasps, drawing his attention. He blinks, realizing he should probably do something to curb Hope’s nerves. Afterall, he did just decide to barge into their house, it’s the least he could do.

“Ah, I forgotten my manners! You must be Hope. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts.” 

He holds out his hand for Hope to shake. She doesn’t take his hand, though just looks at him fearfully. He assumes that had this been a different universe, one where tensions are not as heavy, she would likely shake his hand with a soft kindness. He’s not heard much about the Lupin family these past years. (In fact, if it weren’t for Greyback’s desire to brag about his attacks, he would have barely known that Lyall had a son). But, from what he has heard, Hope is a wonderfully delightful and sweet muggle. Always willing to lend a hand to those in need. Sadly, Lyall doesn’t seem too keen on simpltries either, he looks warily at Dumbledore, and whispers into Hope’s ear about fetching some tea. Dumbledore keeps his warm smile aimed towards Lyall, encouraging him to enjoy himself as if this were a simple conversation between an ex-teacher and his pupil.

“Remus won’t be going to Hogwarts. I’m planning to homeschool him here myself.” Lyall says with a firmness in his voice that Dumbledore does not remember from him. However, despite the finality of his words, Lyall sits at the chair across from Dumbledore with a stubborn plop.

“Come now, Lyall. I know you are quite the accomplished wizard, but even you can’t handle all of Remus’s magical education yourself. Especially with such a busy job at the ministry. I hear you work overtime most nights.”

Lyall remains silent, so Dumbledore continues.

“If he were to attend Hogwarts--”

Lyall slams his fist down. Dumbledore barely sees his tremble, but it’s enough to know that Lyall isn’t truly angry, just nervous for his son.

“No! Remus must not attend!”

Dumbledore knows when not to push. So he stays silent for awhile, letting Lyall gather himself again with a clearing of his throat. For a moment, the atmosphere is thick with awkwardness and tension. Even when Hope joins them and serves them tea in mismatched, shaking cups.

Dumbledore decides he must break the atmosphere if he hopes to persuade them. He turns to the stairway where the small figure listens in with interest. Lyall’s and Hope’s eyes follow him as he smiles warmly towards the stairwell. It’s nice to know that despite what this child has had to live through, he still isn’t afraid of sneaking around to break a few rules. Dumbledore was hoping Remus would be a curious child. It’s one thing to try to persuade the parents, but to persuade the child would require him to have a healthy dose of curiosity towards the outside world. Otherwise, his fear would overcome any desire to live life as a normal child. Sometimes it’s healthy for a child to misbehave, especially in situations as dire as this.

“Don’t be afraid to join in young man. This conversation pertains to you, after all.”

Finally the figure moves, taking slow and hesitant steps towards the light with small pattering of someone trying to move as quietly as he can, not used to company in his home. Maybe he wishes to avoid getting in trouble. When his face hits the light, Dumbledore struggles to keep the smile on his face. The boy’s hazel eyes are dull. The kind of dull that only happens when on has experienced trauma. A dull despair he has seen reflected in so many eyes before. His appearance reflects many werewolves he has seen in the past. He is so skinny Dumbledore is sure he could break at any physical contact. He is pale enough to challenge ghosts, his skin barely holding any peachiness.[] He has the face of someone who has been trapped indoors his whole life, and very little sunlight must rarely grace it. Deep, pink scars run across from the top of his cheek and across to the bottom of the other cheek. He holds himself in a shy and lonely way, slouched and shaking as he leans towards the adults. His pajamas are a faded dark blue and frayed at the end of the sleeves as if the child keeps tugging and picking at them. His hair is a messy mop of mousy brown curls, clearly brushed seldom. He bites his trembling lip and his eyes look over Dumbledore with fear, curiosity, distrust.

Dumbledore recognizes the look of a child afraid of not only people, but themselves most of all. He knows the paper pale-thin look of a child trapped in their own home. He knows understands the actions of a family trying their best with a terrifying situation they could not possibly know how to handle. It all too close to home, and it’s hard not to see the reflection of her eyes with that vacant sweetness.

Upon having heard this boy’s tragic tale from one of his spies located in a nearby werewolf pack, Dumbledore had resolved himself to do what he can to get Remus to attend Hogwarts. Now, looking at the boy’s impossibly familiar face, his resolve deepens, and he knows he will not leave this home until his parents give permission for their child to attend Hogwarts.

(He owes a deep debt that he will never be able to repay, but will instead always chew at his conscience. If he can convince this child that he is not a monster, deserves to practice magic, and live like a normal kid just like everyone else, then at least a small portion of his debt will be repaid. He would have given anything to give a similar girl that same chance.)

The boy doesn’t move any further, so Dumbledore takes it upon himself to invite the boy over to the conversation. Hopefully, by doing this, he can convince everyone in the room to trust him a bit more. He conjures up a plate of crumpets to go with tea, and his own set of 15 golden Gobstones and 15 silver Gobstones. He lifts his wand and creates a silver circle on the wooden floor, then moves all the Gobstones into an even pile in the center. He knows Gobstones is a bit of a… less desirable game for an 11 year old, but considering that Remus has been so secluded from other kids his age, maybe he isn’t aware of the stigma. It serves as a good game to welcome chatter. Not too thought consuming, but still fun enough to lighten the mood.

“Do you know how to play Gobstones, Remus?”

Remus looks at him confused for a moment, as if struggling to register that Dumbledore was talking to him. Soon enough though, he nods rapidly and runs off to grab his shooter. Dumbledore chuckles at his eagerness. He stands up from his chair and uses his wand to move the chair forward, closer to the fire and closer to the Gobstone circle. He sits back down and waits for Remus to come, knowing that Lyall is going to once again try and convince him to leave while they wait.

“Professor Dumbledore...” Ah yes, right on cue. “I don’t think you fully understand the situation Remus is in--”

“I think I understand it better than you realize, Lyall,” Dumbledore interrupts, making eye contact with him, as if daring him to continue that line of thinking. Lyall flinches, but scowls and opens his mouth as if about to continue his argument. He is interrupted by the soft pattering of Remus’s footsteps.

Remus seems to sense the tense atmosphere and sees the scowl on his father’s face. He stops walking immediately. But Dumbledore just smiles at him as a silent way of inviting him to the game. Remus steps slowly into the living room and sits on the floor on the opposite side of Dumbledore and across the circle. Dumbledore notices that despite the family’s less… luxurious way of living, Remus has a very nice shooter, made from the smooth pure rock of white marble. It must have belonged to his father from his own childhood. Or possibly it was a special gift from his parents. Either way, it must hold a decent amount of sentimental value. Dumbledore smiles at that. The boy looks up at him, clearly unsure of what to say, and likely willing Dumbledore to make the first move. 

Dumbledore smiles as he pulls out his shooter Gobstone from his pocket, a sparkly orb of silver and gold flecks to match his set. Remus watches carefully, staying impossibly silent, his eyes observing the game as if it were a wizard’s chess match, planning out a series of moves. Dumbledore gives Remus a playful look with raised eyebrows and sparkling eyes, before using magic to knock one of Remus’s Gobstones at edge of the pile, managing to get it almost out of the circle. He doesn’t play Gobstones often, but he knows a few tricks and decides that for now he’ll go easy on Remus. He chuckles and sips his tea, grabbing a scone to snack on.

Remus seems to contemplate his moves, something Dumbledore doesn’t see often in young Gobstone players. After a few moments, he leans forward and flicks his Shooter by hand. Instead of aiming for the ends like most players do, he aims slightly off the sides, so instead he manages to hit a Gobstone that hits two others out of the circle. The liquid spray Dumbledore’s face, and he can’t help chuckling at the putrid smell and dripping texture on his glasses. He wipes his face off, and Remus smiles a bit as he grabs a crumpet and begins to nibble it. Dumbledore smiles wider at that, and watches as Remus shoots again, and again. Then at the third shot he doesn’t manage to knock any out anymore, but instead spread out quite a lot of the Gobstones. He still managed to take out three of Dumbledoore’s Gobstones in one turn though, so the professor concludes that he has underestimated the bright young Remus, and decides he should avoid doing so again. 

Even though Dumbledore is no longer holding back, the game still continues in the same pattern. Remus strategically getting the better of Dumbledore, and Dumbledore wishing he had spent more time playing Gobstones. With each round of the game, Remus seems to grow more relaxed, losing a bit of that dull and dead look in his eyes and becoming more and more like your average 11 year old boy. He starts to grin wider, until he’s quietly laughing when either he or Dumbledore gets sprayed in the face. He begins taking full bites of his scones, and struggles to sip his cup of tea his mother gave him because his smiling mouth struggles to remain still. Even Lyall and Hope, who have been watching the game tentatively, start to relax as they watch their son’s mannerisms change. 

However, Dumbledore knows that this happy mood musn’t last. He did, afterall, come to visit the Lupins for a reason. As the game comes close to an end, Dumbledore decides to finally continue the earlier discussion.

“Remus,” he says, causing Remus to look up at him hesitantly past his smile, sensing the approaching seriousness of the topic. “As you heard earlier, you’ve been accepted into Hogwarts.” Both Lyall and Hope flinched at this, Remus takes a deep breath, his eyes regaining a glaze of fear. “Do you wish to attend?”

“Professor Dumbledore!” Lyall starts, enraged again. “Don’t ask him such a question! He can’t go to Hogwarts, he’s…” But he hesitates to finish the sentence, knowing it could potentially lead to trouble. Dumbledore finishes it for him.

“A werewolf, I know.”

. . .

The room goes completely silent, and Remus flinches, starting to tremble a bit. Dumbledore has been waiting to address this subject, knowing it’s a sensitive topic, but also needing the family to understand how serious he is about letting Remus attend Hogwarts. He waits, letting the family process the statement.

“How… How did you figure it out?” Lyall asks. He no longer looks angry, but purely frightened. He looks to be begging Dumbledore. Of what, he does not know. To keep his son’s condition quiet? To forget about the information in general? To forgive him and his son of something Dumbledore wouldn’t ever blame them for? There were a number of things he could be begging for, but none that need to be said.

“I have ears everywhere, even amongst the Dark creatures. Fenrir Greyback isn’t exactly a humble man when it comes to his victories and victims.” Hope and Remus flinched at the werewolf’s name, and Lyall looks briefly ashamed. He manages to stand up straight again though, most likely knowing that he can’t wallow in self-pity forever, especially with a guest in his house.

“That doesn’t change the fact that it would be dangerous for a werewolf to attend Hogwarts…” He continues to argue, but it’s clear by the hesitancy in his tone that he means it more as a sign for Dumbledore to continue, rather than as a contingency against him.

“I see no reason why having lycanthropy means Remus shouldn’t attend Hogwarts. I have already made arrangements, should Remus desire to go.”

“Arrangements?” This time it’s Hope that asks, her voice is quiet and timid. But she unconsciously takes a step forward, looking a bit more determined, her eyes shining with a subtle passion. Dumbledore smiles once again.

“Yes, arrangements. I have commissioned a house in Hogsmeade, away from its citizens, and protected by a large arrange of spells to keep people out and a werewolf in. The only way in is through a secret underground tunnel. This passage is entered through the roots of a whomping willow-- a magical tree that will serve as a guard and violently attack anyone who gets near it, unless a certain knot on the tree is pressed.”

“Violently? So if someone got close to the passage… Isn’t that dangerous for the students?”

“Well, yes, but not lethally so.” Not anymore than performing Defense Against the Dark Arts spells, playing Quidditch, or being located near a deadly forbidden forest. “I’ll warn the students ahead of time not to go near the tree, but if they do the tree will only hurt them enough for them to stop. Then we’ll have our school nurse attend to whatever wounds it may have caused.”

Hope’s posture slackens, and a relieved smile spreads across her face as she looks at Dumbledore gratefully. Her hand rests on her heart, instead of clenching on fabric out of fear. Lyall, however, still seemed hesitant.

“Are you sure it’s safe for him? Are you sure his condition will remain secret? No students will be able to find out?”

“You have my word, Lyall. Only his teachers and myself would know.”

The guarantee that their son’s secret would be kept caused both of the Lupin parents to sigh. Then they glanced at each other, smiling for the first time since Dumbledore’s been here. He observed as their happiness seemed to build with the realization that Remus will finally be going to Hogwarts like a normal wizarding child. Eventually they both hugged each other out of joy, tears in their eyes, and Dumbledore smiled fondly at the two. He can’t imagine the relief they must feel, now that they know their child won’t have to grow up alone, and that someone other than themselves will have Remus’s back.

“You really believe I can go?”

Dumbledore and the Lupin parents turn towards Remus immediately. He had almost forgotten Remus was listening to the conversation the entire time. It’s the first time Dumbledore’s heard his voice, so quiet and unsure, but teatoring over the edge of excitement and awe. It carries the tone of a hopeful child whose delicate dream you’d never want to crush, though it’d be as easy as breaking glass. His face matches his voice perfectly, a determined, almost tearful look. His hand is clenched at his chest, he’s leaning forward as if hanging onto Dumbledore’s every word, messing up their game of Gobstones in the process without realizing it. He’s trembling a bit, maybe out of fear that Dumbledore will change his mind, or maybe at the excitement of attending Hogwarts. 

For the first time, Dumbledore doesn’t see Ariana in him, but Remus Lupin. The real Remus Lupin that’s been hiding under all that insecurity, who would want nothing more than a chance at a real childhood. The hope in his eyes is infectious, and even Dumbledore is feeling a bit emotional looking at the boy.

“Well Remus, do _you_ want to attend Hogwarts?” He asks, already knowing what Remus’s answer will be, but still making it clear that it’s _his_ choice. The young boy’s eyes well up, and he smiles bright and happily. A ringing voice filled with happiness and certainty responds:

“Yes!”

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I can write a whole essay on the similarities between Ariana and Remus. Idk I just realized the similarities a few weeks ago, and I don't think that Dumbledore would have missed out on those when meeting Remus for the first time. I think that's part of why he wanted to do what he could for Remus. I was really surprised when I saw that no one else had made those connections, or ever talked about Dumbledore's perspective of that night he told Remus he could go to Hogwarts, so I decided I needed to write about it myself.
> 
> Also I may continue with this story and make it about the Marauders' first year. Idk. I've always wanted to write my own version of the Marauders' first year, so we'll see.


End file.
